Arkin O' Brien
by CoverGirl7210
Summary: Spoilers for Collector series! A different ending to The Collection. I own nothing. Rated T for language and torture.
1. Chapter 1

The Collector watched as his trained dogs were beaten, he'd seen to it that the elder gentleman fell right into a death trap.

Head titled to the side as the guns bullets run out, he'd missed every shot.

The girl he'd originally slammed into a box was being protected from harm by her female rescuer, but the women weren't the beings that got to him.

Sure, Elena had escaped the box, but she could never be Arkin. The man hadn't even been a part of his plan, yet he'd shown up that fateful night.

He'd obviously been there to steal the ruby, after much digging the collector found out his motives, once again Arkin O'Brien was trying to be the hero.

His wife owed money that was due, herself and her young daughter would have been killed.

They would have been had he not smuggled the ruby out of Arkin's pocket when he'd been unconscious and delivered it.

Why he'd done so, he'd never know. Honestly Arkin had become his most favorite, even surpassed the make up caked blonde he was so fond of.

Arkin had escaped his traps, he'd gotten out of the house, the collector had no idea he'd even been there until he beat him over the head with a gun and saved Hannah.

Switchblade being tossed from right to left and back, head now poised up as a plan begins to form. He could easily grab Elena, set a trap and capture the other lady and Arkin.

Only he didn't want her, he only takes the people he likes and he really likes Arkin. Still, he'd need a lure for the women while he fully secured Arkin.

Reluctantly and with a show of true anger he wraps his arms around Elena, making a performance of dragging the young girl from the room, afterwards it was simple duct taping and strapping her down to a table.

The collector made it a point to announce his plan, head lifting up towards the hanging cage before walking from the room.

Now he just had to make sure Arkin isn't inside the trap when it goes off. Elena struggles and continued to scream, echoing footsteps follow down the halls as the bait does her job.

Paz and Arkin cautiously enter the room, Paz immediately rushing to help Elena, Arkin would have done the same had he not been grabbed from behind, black, gloved hand covering his mouth.

With his free hand, the collector pulled the switch, gravity doing its work as the metal cage encases the two females.

Arkin struggles in his grasp, choice angry muffled phrases spilling into the collectors hand, arms latching to pull off the hand gag.

The collector lowers to the man's right ear "Ssshh" free hand grabbing fiercely onto sweat drenched locks of brown hair "Arkin"

Arkin freezes, the psycho knew his name, how he didn't know, he'd never let that information slip. Must have been Lisa when she spoke on the news, asking for his safe return.

The collector takes everything in, the women were trapped and going to die, the cops had been alerted to his whereabouts so he'd have to destroy his own house ... But none of that bothered him, Arkin was his prize and he had him once again.

Quickly, much like when he'd dragged him kicking and screaming from the ambulance a few months back, he forced the struggling man along.

The collector wished he had more time, he'd need to secure Arkin, spread the gas, light the tanks and get the hell out with his prize before the cops got in.

Arkin's struggled pace picked up upon sight of the lone, open red box. Dried blood lined the walls and lid, this crate was different from the others, inside there was enough chains to halt any movement.

The collector lowers Arkin to his knees beside the box, fist clenching before smacking into the side of the man's head, rendering him into a state of unawareness.

Manacles were clicked into place on his ankles and thighs, hands crossed over Arkin's chest before being secured to the box walls, neck chocked in a bruising collar to another side of the box.

Arkin pulled on his arms and legs, only for the restrictions to tighten "Fuck you!"

Duct tape is stretched from its roll, followed by a stapler waving in the collectors hand, Arkin fought but couldn't move his head due to the collar "Get away, fuck you, man!"

The end of the tape is smoothed over Arkin's lips, four painful staples follow. Arkin screams as the points penetrate his skin, the man can only glare as the tape is repeatedly wrapped around his head.

Minutes pass as the winding continued, he had to be sure Arkin couldn't talk or be heard. The collector runs his hand down Arkin's left cheek before another punch to the face is delivered.

The box lid is slammed shut and latched, followed by a padlock to further secure Arkin inside, the man was a pro at picking locks.

With his prize locked away, the collector began his spreading of the gasoline. Can after can is sloshed throughout his hotel home.

He could care less for his older test subjects, he'd been searching the entire time for his piece of resistance and he'd finally found it.

Room after room is drowned in kerosene, the place was going to burn to the ground with everyone inside. Now it was time to deal with the girls.

The collector wasn't at all surprised to see them still trapped, knife now fallen on the ground. He'd known they wouldn't escape, they'd have had a chance had Arkin been with them.

He toyed with the lighter, watching the fear bubble fourth on their faces, listened to their pathetic pleas as he ignites the fuse.

The girls were weak, begging was futile. That's part of the reason he liked Arkin, the man never begged, he'd demand to be let out, he'd threatened to eat his heart and kill him.

Arkin was different, a diamond in the rough ... And he now belonged to him.

The collector returned to the box, kicking the side harshly, in turn receiving a pained yell from the confines, Arkin was still inside.

Hands grab hold of the boxes handle, the collector drags the trapped prey towards the hidden back door. He'd seen from security footage the cops hadn't found it yet, but just to make sure, a lit match was thrown into a pool of gasoline.

The room caught fire instantly, the police and fire department wouldn't have time to check the back area.

Arkin tried screaming in protest inside the box, fear slowly taking over as reality of the situation hits full force, he was being kidnapped by this psycho once again.

Arms and legs pulling against the rattling chains holding him prisoner, blood dripping from his injured wrists. He couldn't get out, he'd been unable to escape all the other times, but the collector was intent on keeping him, usually he'd be chained by the ankles and that was all.

With mobility out, Arkin had one other option, screaming. The man yelled as loud as he could, his voice barely leaving his sealed lips. Tears of anger and frustration swell up in his blue eyes.

Was this it? He'd spend the rest of his days trapped with this madman in the red box? Would the collector leave him in here to die of hunger? No, he could feel the box moving, he wasn't being left behind, but taken along.

Arkin smelled the gas, could feel the heat from the flames. The son of a bitch had set the place on fire, he'd heard Elena and Paz screaming, the girls were good as dead if he still had them.

The collector listened as Arkin screamed, he could hear every move the man tried to make and every pained groan that followed.

The man leans down to the box once more, lips inches away from the wood "Ssshh, Arkin"

He'd used his name again, he knew who he was, after he'd sent those flowers to the hospital he should have known it wasn't over, even if Lucello hadn't dragged him here at gun point, he'd still have been re-collected.

The collector licked his lips, messing with Arkin was very enjoyable, he couldn't wait till he got the man to his real home.

The back door is noisily opened, echoes of police and fire fighters drifting through the air, if he could hear them, so could Arkin. "Not a word"

Arkin groans, as if he could talk with the tape over his mouth, the fucker was playing with him.

The collector smiles as the hotel explodes, the fuse had finally reached its end. His house of horrors was burning to the ground.

He sat on the box and watched, thousands were now dead if they hadn't been before. His collection was gone, but he had his prize.

Every collector has their favorite piece and his was bound and gagged below his feet. Arkin O'Brien, the man who he hadn't planned, the one person he'd taken that wasn't meant to be there, and lastly the only man to escape him twice.

The box is dragged once more to the hidden white van, the collector lugs the crate into the back, securing it in place before slamming the side doors.

It was time to head home, he'd drive around awhile to confuse his captive, make a fake map and directions.

 **First off I have to say this movie and The Collector is severely underrated, but it's definitely not for everyone, watch it at your own risk. This story takes place during its sequel :)**


	2. Chapter 2

The engine rumbled as the collector pulled into the driveway, parking the van inside the garage. The man whistles as he checks through his mail, he had to make room for his new pet.

He wanted to keep Arkin close, the man was far too clever for his own good. He could simply keep him inside the box, let him sit in his own filth when he's not freed to empty his bladder.

No, he couldn't risk the smell alerting anyone to Arkin's presence. He'd seen on the news the man was wanted by police for questioning after he'd vanished from the hospital.

The collector couldn't help but laugh at the irony, Arkin was a prisoner either way you looked at it.

The room directly across the hall from his would have to do, he could easily watch Arkin from this vantage point.

The collector begins his work, screwing four locks on the outside of Arkin's door, a latch for a padlock and finally small notches to screw the door securely closed with a drill.

It would be a pain to re-screw and unscrew everyday, but this precaution was required to keep Arkin as his captive.

Wooden boards are nailed over the window, a metal ring bolted into the floor, chains looped and melted in place.

Manacles attached to the beds headboard and legs, leather cuff straps are also applied for fun.

The collector was going all out, there was going to be no chances of Arkin escaping this time. The room was a finished, handmade prison.

All that was left was its lone occupant. The man's hands clasped together as he makes his way back towards the garage.

Pounding from inside the red box greets him, Arkin was still fighting to get out. The collector retched the doors open, shoving the box down in the process.

Arkin's muffled scream is returned in full, followed by a painful groan as the box hits the ground. The collector smiles beneath his mask as he pulls the bottom of the box out of the van.

Arkin landing hard once again on his skull as the box thuds onto the garage concrete, when he got out of here, he was going to kill this mother fucker.

The collector begins whistling once more as he, none to gently drags the box inside the house and up the stairs, relishing in every pain filled response he gets.

Soon enough he's reached the room, Arkin's new home for the remainder of his life or until the collector grew tired of him, whichever came first.

The latches are unclasped, padlock removed and box opened to reveal a battered, bleeding and bruised Arkin O' Brien.

Arkin clenches his eyes closed as the light from outside pours in, he can feel his captor undoing the manacles around his wrists, only to rebind them behind his back with a pair of handcuffs.

Ankles and thighs soon follow being freed from the box, Arkin struggles as he's pulled to his feet and thrown on a large bed "What the fuck is this?"

The collector doesn't respond, he couldn't understand Arkin due to the gag anyways. Instead he chooses to push the man's head hard into the pillow "Sshhh"

Arkin tries to pull his head up and out of the man's clutches to no avail "What the hell, man? What the fuck is all this?" He could barely understand his own words due to the tape.

The collector pulls painfully on Arkin's hair once more, hand ripping the tape off before running his hand down the length of the man's body "Arkin"

Arkin stills at the contact, this wasn't right, the collector hates him, wants him dead, so then why is he here? "What the hell are you doing?"

The collector grabs hold and twists Arkin's ankle, not enough to break bone, but to get his point across "Shhh, Arkin"

Arkin attempts kicking the offender away, but his grip was unrelenting, he'd have to do as he's told for now. The younger man's head nods, body stilling "I'll shut up now"

The collector slowly lets the appendage turn back right side, a small cuff is soon encasing the foot, clicked tightly shut "Good boy"

Arkin lowers his head at the pain, his right leg soon following, he wanted so badly to kick this bastard in his god damned face.

A wire he's used numerous times for his deadly traps is knotted into the cuffs confining Arkin's hands, the collector runs his finger along the edge, going up and allowing Arkin to see the large blade tied to the other end, hovering just over the bed.

Arkin really shouldn't have been surprised, what's next? Bear traps lining the floor? Maybe some acid? But this fact did unnerve him, if he shifted just a tiny bit, he'd be chopped in two.

It's no secret why the collector picked this trap, Arkin wouldn't be able to move, he can't pick the lock on the cuffs if he can't move a single inch.

The collector gets off his prize, taking in the man before him, his Arkin. He was really just a kid, still in the training stage. "Sleep"

Arkin glares at the order, although he could feel he desperately needed it, he wouldn't bring himself to be this man's plaything.

The collector tilts his head as his demand is ignored, this was why Arkin was his favorite, he'd be the best trophy he's ever broken.

His switchblade is pulled from his pocket, opened and hovering over Arkin's right cheek, directly over the healing scar where the wire trap had cut him.

Arkin remains glaring, gaze not faltering a bit as the blade meets his skin, he can feel the blood falling as the slice is made, re-opening an old wound.

The collector grows tired of that piercing gaze, he puts away the knife to pull out the duct tape and stapler once again, stretching a large piece taut from the roll.

Arkin takes a deep breath through his nose, being gagged was one thing, but having his sight taken from him? That's two senses this man's taken in one day.

The man above sneered as he drew closer with the tape, eyes faintly catching sight of a small wool of thread.

A new, devious idea began to form as the man exits the room, Arkin had no time to do much of anything before he returned.

"What are you up to, you sick fuck! You enjoying this?"

The collector picks up the thread, knotting it into the long needle "Sshh, quiet, Arkin"

Arkin spits in the man's face as he lowers down "You fucking freak! What the hell is your problem, man?"

The collector uses one hand to hold Arkin's jaw, the other draws fourth with the threaded needle.

Arkin can't struggle due to the wires connecting his wrists to the above machete, there was nothing he could do to stop the asshole. "Don't you fucking dare, I swear to god I'm gonna kill you!"

The needle tip is hovered just below Arkin's bottom lip, collector gazing into the so called fearless man's eyes "Sssh"

Arkin's scream rises as the needle punctures the skin, blood pouring as the thread is forced through the tiny hole.

The collector whistles as he pushes the needle into Arkin's top lip, sewing the two firmly closed.

Tears rush down Arkin's cheeks from the pain, eyes begging for the man above him to stop, only to be answered with another pierce.

Blood is wiped away as the captor continues the torture, using a cris-crossing pattern as he goes along "Arkin"

Arkin glares, half of his mouth is tied shut, the collector glowering above him as he watches the younger man, studying his every crevice and reaction.

What he was hoping for, Arkin hadn't any idea, the man bravely opens what little bit of his lips he still could to attempt a curse.

The collector moves swiftly, he takes his time effectively stitching Arkin's mouth closed, the younger man's pitiful whimpers were his reward.

Arkin's eyes clench shut in pain and resignation, the collector now knotting the final lengths of chord into a tight, little knot.

The collectors finger glides over the stiches, he could hardly see Arkin's lips due to the heavy twine, he still wasn't done though. If he truly wanted to break his new toy, he'd have to do much more.

The collector forces Arkin's head up, keeping the tape directly in front of the boy, he chuckled as Arkin tried breathing in, his blue eyes narrowing as if in challenge.

The duct tape is smoothed over the piercing blues, stapler leveled at the tapes edge before bonding skin and tape together.

Arkin gasps in pain, body shifts to get far away from this man and his situation, the collector continued along the tapes entire length, stitching his eyes into the darkness.

The collector plays with the boy's gag, running his fingers over the twine holding Arkin's mouth. Fiddling with the knots between the creases of his lips "Sssh, sleep"

Arkin wrenches his head back, words screaming into his gag as his captor exits his prison, he can hear all four locks keyed into place, a padlock clicking closed and a drill ... Wait, what?

Arkin's body moves forward, the wire being pulled in the process, quickly the man leans back into place, rebalancing the blade above.

The drilling continues, Arkin can hear the nails being driven into the wood, his heart leapt and blood froze ... The collector was nailing the door to his room shut, sealing him inside.

From what he'd seen, the only window had been boarded up, not like he could get to it, first he had to ditch this wire and cuffs.

If the collector thought this could hold Arkin, he had another thing coming.

 **Guys I am so sorry to have gone silent for so long, so much has happened! I moved into an apartment and in 3 months time I'll be living in my new house!**


	3. Chapter 3

Staying awake was easier than Arkin would have thought, his room was freezing, his tank top wasn't keeping him warm and he couldn't reach the blankets underneath him without risking activating the trap.

If his ankles weren't shackled to the bed, he could easily roll off and avoid the blade, since he was unfortunately attached, he'd have to come up with another plan.

Fumbling fingers run across the cuffs chain, catching on the wire, if he could untie it, he could avoid certain death, but the collector would hear if the trap was activated, hell, odds are he had cameras watching Arkin's every move.

He wouldn't just sit there and be a model captive, Arkin was getting out of here, the question was how? If he could pick the lock on the cuffs he could escape without the trap even knowing.

But he didn't have anything sharp to pick it with, fists clenched in momentary defeat, finger brushing over the wire, bleeding immediately from the single touch.

Arkin hissed at the cut, damn that hurt, but it did give him an idea, question is, could he actually do it?

The collector had left him one option, on purpose or not Arkin could pick the handcuffs and escape ... All he had to do was rip off enough of his fingernail to fit in the lock.

Son of a bitch this fucking sucked! After a few seconds of deliberation, Arkin's choice was made, he'd endure much worse the longer he remained here.

Arkin re-positions his hand, moving his finger until catching the edge of his nail on the wire, other hand holding the wire steady as he begins.

The wire dug deep into his nail bed, blood trailing down his finger at the abuse, Arkin wanted nothing more than to stop, the pain was unimaginable.

He'd been through so much, pulling out a nail should be simple compared to all that, only it wasn't, it fucking hurt like a bitch.

Arkin had never been more glad for the gag, despite the pulls of his mouth and itchy fibers, there was no way he'd be able to keep quiet as he continued to dig, his nail slowly and painful ripping off.

The fingers braving the wire were bleeding at the tips as he pulled to keep balance, it was all he could do to keep from biting his tongue clean off.

Bracing himself, Arkin prepares to rip the bandaid off, it's all or nothing. Tears gush down the tape blindfold as he pushes his finger forwards, ripping the last bits connecting his nail.

Pained whimpers and gasps escape the gag, head turning away, attempting to relax into the cushy pillow.

After catching his breath, Arkin tentatively takes hold of what once had been his fingernail, inserting the sharpest end into the lock.

Arkin moved the nail around, fitting nicely into the tumbler, thank god he hadn't used police issued handcuffs. Usually he had a pick and long needle used to help guide it, he'd have to make do with what he had.

Twists and turns, but no click, he had to get out of here, but he couldn't push it too much, his nail could still break and then he'd have done all this for nothing.

Strategically Arkin continued, fighting to stay calm as there's still no click, this was taking far longer than it should have, it had to work, this was his only option!

More tugs and now aggravated sighs echo throughout the room, Arkin digging the entire nail inside the lock now, twists and turns till finally he feels the pressure begin to lessen.

Blue eyes widen underneath the tape, he was right on the mechanism he needed, a few more turns of the hand and ... _Click_

Arkin wastes no time moving his now freed arm to work on the last cuff, expertly releasing that one as well.

His hands were free, now he had to carefully lock the cuffs to the headboard, slowly Arkin raises the restraints, fingers still holding the wire in place as they're snapped in place.

Arkin wastes no time ripping the blindfold from his face, relishing in being able to see, now for the hard part.

Delicately, bloodied finger tips messed with the twine, slowly unknotting the one thing holding his lips shut.

Arkin wished he could just cut the damn stuff, instead he had to pull the rough, scratchy material through each jabbed needles hole.

Soon feeling began to return as his mouth is freed, jaw wincing as Arkin moves the appendage around.

"Sick, fuck!" Exclaimed Arkin, hands moving to unlock the manacles holding his legs, these locks proving much easier, doubled with the ability to once again see, he was free in no time.

Arkin's eyes take in the room, the door was out, but what's to stop him from unbarring the window? He'd done that to escape the first house, now he'd do it again.

Only problem? Last time he had Victoria's screams to help cover the sound, he'd still wished he'd been able to save her, all of them. Michael, Victoria and young Jill all died that night.

Lone survivor Hannah, the eleven-year old girl he'd successfully saved, hopefully she's with family or found a good home, maybe he'd track her down after all this, just to make sure she's safe and being treated right.

He'd have to count on the door keeping the collector busy, if he'd really screwed it shut, that would take time to unlock, but was that enough time for him to escape?

Maybe he'd get lucky and the collector wouldn't hear him? When had he ever been lucky? He was stuck here, once again he'd been locked in a fucking red box and imprisoned.

"Fuck this guy! I'm getting the hell out!" Hands pull on the boards, slowly ripping the nails out by force.


	4. Chapter 4

The collector laid in bed, TV on the news channel, mask on his bedside table, there was talk of a fire, multiple bodies found, but no survivors.

A glass of whiskey in hand, he was celebrating his triumph. Anyone who knew Arkin had been at that hotel was ash, no one was left to get in his way.

The burning liquid pours down his sarcophagus, he couldn't wait to play with Arkin.

He'd take his time with this one, make sure everything Arkin had witnessed at the Chase home wasn't even in the same league.

The collector turns towards the door, Arkin lay just behind the wood, his favorite was merely a few steps away.

He could hear the boy moving around, the bed creak and chains shake. Honestly, he'd been waiting for an escape attempt, there was no where for Arkin to go.

Still, this was Arkin, the man should have been an escape artist with how much he got away, but this time would be different, there would be no escape.

Board after board rips from the foundation, Arkin was surprised the collector wasn't banging on his door, thankfully he didn't have an old man's skull for use this time.

Wooden planks were quietly set a top the mattress, window now freely open in invitation.

Tentatively, Arkin studies the window, he didn't want another experience like last time. Seeing nothing stills those fears a bit "It's too easy"

Either the collector severely underestimated him, or this was a trap. Arkin guessed the latter, but what choice did he have?

It was 50/50 chance he won't get his arm hacked off from this window, or worse.

Arkin couldn't figure out if the sick bastard was messing with him or not "Fucking dick"

He's going, he'll go head first, that way if any things chopped off, he'll be too dead to care.

Arkin braces his hands on the window sill, takes a deep breathe, begging it's not his last as he lowers his head.

The night sky, crickets and chilly air are what greets him, the man pulls his body fully through in shock. A simple house had been his prison, he appeared to have been held on the second story.

He could jump, a fall from this height wouldn't kill him, he could re-break his arm if he fell the wrong way. He'd made this before at the Chase home, all he'd received was a swollen ankle.

"Fuck it" Arkin leaps to the ground, silently begging the collector to have been asleep and not hear the impact as he hit the ground.

Arkin rolled the moment he'd touched the grass, once again missing smashing his ankle bones.

Arkin ran as fast as he could, this time he had no reason to go back, no Hannah or Elena to save, no trapped family being tortured ... There was nothing in that house to warrant a single backwards glance.

The collector had just switched the television off when a loud thud gains his full attention. Quickly rising to his feet, mask tied back over his face, legs propelled him towards Arkin's door.

Bang after bang receives no answer, the collector raps his fists angrily upon the wood until finally grabbing the lone drill.

Soon two screws are removed, locks opened to reveal an empty room, no Arkin in sight.

The collector grits his teeth as he runs towards the window, seeing nothing but darkness, Arkin had gotten away.

Frustrated, the collector runs to the garage, keys pushed in the ignition before freezing. He never should have brought Arkin to his home.

His boy was long gone by now, probably rang a doorbell till someone answered, police called and heading this way.

He'd have to run, bide his time until the hunt wears off. Sticker ripped from the vans exterior, he'd have to paint it another color and switch plates on the road.

No ... He's never run before and he didn't plan to start now. Arkin was his, he'd hunt him down and drag him back.

Arkin staggered in his run, unsure exactly where he was currently at, it appeared to be neighborhood.

He had a few options, run towards a neighbors, keep walking until he figures out where he's at or ... Teach the collector a lesson.

Thoughts of burning the man's house down while he's locked inside, hacking his balls off, binding him to a wall using nothing but sharp hooks through his fingers and back.

"That mother fucker is going to pay, he's gonna feel everything I did!"

For the second time, Arkin turns around. Slow steps heading back towards another house of horrors he'd just escaped from. Last time this hadn't worked for him ... Could he risk it happening again?

The decision is taken out of his hands as the garage door opens, masked collector standing inside, head once again tilting to the side.

Arkin glares, the two staring at one another waiting for the first move. He's not going down without a fight "What are you waiting for, stupid fuck? Come get me!"

The collector tosses his knife back and forth before launching the blade through the air, legs propelling him forward.

Arkin moves to a fighting stance, easily dodging the knife "Come on!"

The collector grits his teeth as he tackles Arkin to the ground, punching the man in the face, banging his head against the concrete.

Arkin struggles to get back to his feet, grabbing hold of the collectors fists as he tried to punch, reeling as his skull continuously gets smashed.

A throat punch and knee to the groin is enough to throw the collector off guard, Arkin taking advantage as he stands over the fallen man.

The collector spits blood from his lips, dark eyes starring as Arkin's foot slams into his cheek, a loud snap signaling his jaw is either broken or cracked.

Arkin kicks with all the strength he had, fists pummeling into his captor, the younger man lowers to rip the dark mask from the collectors face.

"You're really fucked up, you know that? Collecting people like we're bugs for you to squish."

The collector moves to reach his feet once more, but Arkin's round house kick to his gut stops him in his tracks "Stay the fuck down!"

"You gonna kill me?" Taunts the unmasked collector

Arkin smiles "No, that'd be to nice, I'm gonna make you feel everything that I felt ... Then I'm gonna kill you."

Arkin leans down, grabbing hold of the collectors very own switchblade that he'd thrown "You're never going to hurt anyone, ever again."

The collector sneers as a growl leaves his mouth, body launching upwards in a final attack. It was him or his pet, Arkin had to go, he'd find another one he liked.

Arkin swings the blade in defense, all falls silent as blood runs freely down the handle.

The collector looks down to see his very own knife imbedded in his chest, eyes boring into Arkin's.

Arkin yells in fury at the look, ripping the knife out and back into the collectors body over and over again "Fuck you!"

The collectors gaze never ceased, no words left his mouth as he's repeatedly stabbed, effectively, angering Arkin more.

The knife plunges through muscle and bone, twists into organs, ruptures the liver and spleen in its haste.

"Fuck you!" All of Arkin's pent up anger escapes with each deadly stab, this man had ruined his life, tortured numerous people and here he was, unmasked and being stabbed, yet still giving that dead eye stare "FUCK YOU!"

The final stab lands directly in the collectors heart, the man who'd kidnapped and tortured thousands was dying brutally at the hands of his only living abductee.

Arkin drags the collectors body back inside his home, dropping the barely alive man to the hard floor, grabbing hold of the red can sitting on the floor.

The collector isn't surprised when Arkin uncaps the cap on the gasoline nor when gas is splashed on the curtains and couch.

"Don't die yet" speaks Arkin to the prone man on the ground "I'm not done with you, fucker"

The collector gasps as the last of the gasoline rains over his body, soaking his clothes and hair.

Arkin throws the now empty can aside, ripping a piece from his tank top, hand holding a now flickering lighter "Hope you don't mind I borrowed your lighter?"

Arkin stands directly above the dying man, the man who'd abducted and tortured him, trapped him inside a red box, chosen him for a life of pain "How does it feel being on the other side of the coin?"

The collector makes no move to respond, he couldn't if he'd wanted to. Arkin lowers the material to the flame as he bends to his knees before the trapped man "Look at me"

The collectors eyes stare into Arkin's unforgiving blues, the younger males face showing no signs of emotion as he rises back to his feet "Look at me"

Arkin releases the burning material, watching as fire meets gasoline on the collectors body, the man screaming in excruciating pain, arms and legs soaring and kicking through the air.

Without a second thought, Arkin turns his back to the man, exiting the house as the man's screams alert nearby neighbors.

Arkin walked on the side of the street, hidden in the shadows as the cop cars and fire trucks pass.

The collector was dead, he'd achieve his revenge, that fucker was going to burn in hell and it was all thanks to him, Arkin O' Brien.


End file.
